


Melting Ice

by elrosia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 09:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10533960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrosia/pseuds/elrosia
Summary: Hermione visits Ron in the hospital wing after he's been poisoned.





	

It was late. Hermione lay on her back, staring up at the canopy of her four-poster bed. She listened to the sounds of soft breathing coming from the other beds in the shared dormitory. Hermione did not even consider sleep. Her body felt wired, filled with a restless energy she could not contain. Eyes wide, but unseeing, her foot tapped incessantly against the bed frame, but she didn’t even notice. All she could think about was Ron, lying in that bed in the hospital wing, alone. How close she had come to losing him. What if Harry had not been there to save him? What if there had not been a bezoar in the room? 

Hermione shuddered and shifted to her side, kicking off the blankets. She played over all their arguments of the past few weeks in her mind. She remembered the last angry words she had spoken to him. She thought of how stubborn she had been, resisting all of Harry’s efforts at mediation. She had clung fiercely to her pride. It had seemed so important, then. She had been determined not to yield, to punish him for hurting her. Ron would have to be the one to apologize, she had told herself, he was the one who had— her thoughts abruptly halted and she felt that familiar queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach as the image of Ron locked in an embrace with Lavender swam in her mind’s eye. She took a deep breath and huffed it out. Sitting up, she drew her knees to her chest. This wasn’t about Lavender. Ron had been her friend for years, they had been through so much together, and he had almost died believing that she hated him. A traitorous voice whispered that he was more than a friend, but she squashed it as she quickly made a decision. She knew what she needed to do.

Moving as silently as she could, she eased herself out of bed and crept towards the door. She slowly turned the handle and inched it open just wide enough for her to slide through, shutting it softly behind her. As she moved down the stairs and into the common room, her ears were strained for any noises alerting her to the presence of other students awake in the tower, but the only sounds she heard were of the crackling fire and her own soft footsteps. She glanced over at a chess set that had been left haphazardly out on the table beside the fireplace and a sharp pain went through her chest at the sight of it, causing her breath to hitch. This only served to steel her resolve, and she continued on and exited through the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady’s inquiries as she left the Gryffindor common room. 

A nervous anticipation buzzed in her veins as she made her way through the dark corridors and stairwells. Breaking the rules did not come naturally to her, but she was beyond caring about the consequences if she were caught. Still, she silently prayed that she could avoid detection, ruefully thinking of Harry’s invisibility cloak and map that were locked away back in Gryffindor’s tower. She would just have to sneak the old fashioned way. But luck was on her side, and aside from the warning sounds of Peeves’ cackling as he tossed eggs into the helmets of some suits of armor, which caused her to backtrack down a different hallway, she made it to her destination uneventfully enough. 

Finding herself standing in front of the doorway to the hospital wing, Hermione peered carefully around the corner and listened closely for sounds of Madame Pomfrey. After a moment, she decided that the coast was clear and quietly moved into the room. She glanced towards the door to Madame Pomfrey’s room, but as all looked dark and still, she figured the matron must have retired to bed. Hermione pulled out her wand and, pointing it at the door, whispered, “Muffliato.”

Hermione then turned her attention to the only occupied bed in the room. Even in the dim lighting of the hospital wing she could see a shock of red hair peeping out from beneath the blankets. Something tugged at her insides as she felt almost pulled towards that corner of the room. Seating herself in the chair next to the cot where he lay, Hermione looked down on the sleeping form of Ronald Weasley. For a moment, she just stared at him, taking in his rumpled hair, the freckles on his long nose, the way his mouth hung half opened as his breath moved in and out. Feeling a rush of gratitude at this simple act of breathing, she turned her attention to the slow rise and fall of his chest, placing a tentative hand over his heart. 

“Ron,” she breathed, barely even a whisper. His eyelids flickered and he mumbled something incoherently. Afraid of waking him, Hermione started to withdraw her hand, but as she did so she found her wrist caught as he pulled her back. 

“Er-my-knee,” he mumbled, and she suddenly found herself staring into Ron’s open blue eyes. At first, he looked confused as though he wasn’t sure if he was awake or not. He blinked sleepily and his gaze began to clear as he took in the form of Hermione sitting beside him.

“Hermione?” he asked in a gravelly voice. 

“Ron,” she began, “I…” but she trailed off. 

“Wha’ ya doin’ here?” he asked groggily. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” And she began again to pull her hand away, which was still resting on his chest. But he only grasped her hand more tightly. 

“You came to see me,” he said, suddenly looking more awake. 

“I…had to,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep,” she added, as though this were an explanation.

He paused as he looked at her, trying to read her face. “Thank you,” he said finally. 

Hermione looked away hastily, startled by the sudden prickle of tears she felt spring to her eyes at his words. She tried to rub at them casually as a blush crept up her neck. 

“Ron, I…I’m…” she felt her throat close up as she spoke, trying to get out what she wanted to say. She took a breath and tried again. Meeting his gaze this time, she said, “Ron…I’m sorry… for how…for everything.”

It was Ron’s turn to look startled, then guilty as he thought with shame of his behavior over the prior weeks. “No, ‘Mione,” he said in a low tone, “it’s me, I’m…you don’t…” he spluttered, trying to make his thoughts coherent. He gazed at her pleadingly, willing her to understand what he was so desperately unable to say. “I’m just a prat. I don’t know how you put up with me,” he said, trying for a grin which came out more like a grimace. 

Hermione felt a rush of adrenaline as she remembered just how close she had come to not being able to ‘put up with’ him at all. Her fear gave her the courage to speak honestly. “Ron, no,” she said, and looking down at her lap to avoid his gaze, she continued, “I..I don’t want you to have d-died th-thinking that I h-hate you.” 

Still unable to look up, Hermione heard the sounds of Ron shifting as he slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position. As he released her hand, she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. 

“Hermione,” Ron said. Seeing that she still refused to look at him, he reached out and hesitantly brushed aside her hair from her face, the backs of his fingers lingering against her cheek. She looked up at him then. 

“I’m sorry,” Ron said simply, knowing how much more he needed to say, and frustrated by his inability to express it. He was no good with words, he thought to himself. Looking in her eyes, however, Ron saw understanding in their depths, and he knew that with Hermione no words were needed. He felt something in his chest swell almost painfully at the thought. 

Ron cleared his throat. “Besides,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, “it’ll take a lot more than that to get rid of me. I’ve been in loads more dangerous situations. I mean, I’ve taken down a bloody mountain troll singlehandedly, for Merlin’s sake,” he boasted with a grin. 

Hermione let out a low laugh despite herself, swiping at her wet cheeks. “Single-handedly?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well,” he admitted, “I might have had a little help.” Furrowing his brow as though he were trying hard to remember, he added, “As I recall there was this very bossy witch who was going on and on about wand technique.” 

Gasping in mock affront, Hermione swatted at him playfully, but Ron captured her hand in his, beaming at her. She felt her face flush as she smiled back at him. 

Ron leaned back against his pillows, suddenly letting out a huge yawn. 

“I should go,” said Hermione, moving to stand. 

Ron held onto her hand as he asked, “Will you come back tomorrow?”

She nodded. “If you want me to,” she said.

“Always,” he said. 

She squeezed his hand and let go, saying, “You really do need to get some sleep if you’re going to heal properly.” 

Recognizing Hermione’s familiar authoritative tone, Ron smiled to himself as he lay back on the bed. 

As Hermione moved away, she heard Ron quietly call to her. “Hermione?”

She paused. “Yes?”

“It was worth it, being poisoned.” 

“Oh, Ronald. Honestly,” she scoffed, though she felt a shiver go up her spine at his words and her face turned a bright pink. 

Ron just grinned at her from the bed. “Night, ‘Mione,” he said.

“Goodnight, Ron,” she whispered and slipped out of the room, silently undoing the charm she had placed on Madame Pomfrey’s door. 

As Hermione walked back to Gryffindor tower, she felt lighter than she had in weeks. It occurred to her that she was still in danger of being caught roaming the halls, but now she just smiled to herself at the thought. It would be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think


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